


to the bones

by jjjat3am



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Mirror Sex, though there is very little actual sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 13:36:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2027037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjjat3am/pseuds/jjjat3am
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky has some issues with accepting his metal arm. Sam helps things along. A mirror is involved.</p>
<p>Written for <a href="http://buckyandsam.tumblr.com/post/92026660142/sam-bucky-week-spanning-july-24-30-sam-bucky">sbweek</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	to the bones

**Author's Note:**

> This is smut. Borderline. Barely. Mostly there's feelings and touching and mirrors and Sam and Bucky making things work.

 

 

As the Winter Soldier, Bucky had been taught to compartmentalize. What was Mission was always at the forefront. What was Emotion was to be destroyed. What was Other was set aside to be erased with the rest, leaving him a blank slate.

 

This skill allowed him to deal far more straightforwardly with the return of his memories that was probably usual. Though, to be fair, nothing about his situation was usual. Not to say that dealing with emotion and memories was easy, because it wasn’t, in fact it was probably the hardest thing he’d ever done, right after reaching out to take Steve’s hand to accept the help he was offered.

 

Still, with time, a very good therapist and the unconditional support of those around him, he improved. He would never again be the Bucky Barnes Steve remembered, but then again, Steve wasn’t the Steve Rogers Bucky remembered either. Changing persons for changing times, he supposed.

 

However, there was one thing that remained, a duality that drove his therapist to distraction. In Bucky’s mind, there remained a division between what was Bucky Barnes and what was the Winter Soldier.

 

(and a third party that was once James and brought with it the smell of apple pie and his father’s booming laugh – he didn’t often think about James)

 

His dancing skills were entirely Bucky Barnes, as was his horrendous singing voice. An aptitude for knifework and survival in low temperatures, the Winter Soldier. A scar from a German bullet grazing his side was Bucky. A perfect circle through his hip from an American rifle, the Winter Soldier.

 

His right arm was his own, his left was the Soldier’s.

 

(and pages of names written in red belonged to both of them, no matter how much Steve tried to convince him otherwise)

 

As a consequence, Bucky avoided mirrors, had begged for them to be removed from all but the most necessary of places. All to avoid looking at what his body had become.

 

Still, he couldn’t avoid them forever, and so one day when he was putting away his winter coat in Sam’s guest bedroom his sleeve caught on the cloth covering a big standing mirror, pulling it off.

 

It was a full length mirror, antique looking, but just as obviously no older than twenty years, which made it borderline tacky. Sam got it from his mother, who was trying to get rid of it but didn’t want to throw it away, so she’d nagged him until he took it. The mirror used to stand in Sam’s bedroom, but was now relegated to the guest room and covered up.

 

Bucky was abruptly confronted by his own reflection, the loose sweatpants hanging off his hipbones, his bare feet and the white tank top that did nothing to hide the gross seam where the metal was fused to his skin.

 

“What are you looking at?” Hands wound their way around his waist and Sam rested his chin on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky watched them in the mirror; the slope of Sam’s nose and his full lips pressed quickly against Bucky’s neck in a soft touch, the familiar scratch of his beard and his strong callused hands around Bucky’s torso.

 

Sam’s head was resting on Bucky’s human shoulder and the other, metal one, seemed even more alien in comparison, reflecting splinters of light from the sunset rays coming through the window. It felt like a part of someone else’s body, unconnected to him or Sam.

 

“Nothing.”

 

The Winter Soldier had no one to love him, but Bucky Barnes had Sam Wilson.

 

Which is why he needed to get away from the mirror and Sam’s baring gaze right now.

 

“Is this about the arm?” Sam said and Bucky felt the vibration down his neck. “Bucky, you’re shaking.”

 

And he was, Bucky realized, trembling in Sam’s arms and cold all over.  He wanted to move away, but Sam’s loose grip made it hard to move, even if he could probably break it no problem. The metal arm was unmoving, hanging by his side and he barely felt its weight, but it seemed suddenly like the scars on his shoulder were red and inflamed, not the pale pink as usual.

 

“Hey, hey, Bucky…” Sam pressed kisses to his shoulder and neck, and his hands rubbed Bucky’s stomach in comforting motions. Bucky relaxed by fractions, eventually calm enough to lean most of his weight back and pull Sam into a kiss that grew heated very quickly.

 

“Take this off, come on, I want to touch you.” Sam whispered against his lips, tugging on the bottom of Bucky’s tank top, before slipping his hands underneath. Bucky stepped back enough to pull of his top, about to move towards the guest bed, but Sam pulled him back against his still clothed torso, mirroring their position from before.

 

“Bed?” Bucky asked plaintively, because Sam found that spot on his neck that made his mind go hazy with lust.

 

“In a moment. Keep your eyes open, please.” Sam pressed another kiss against his neck, running his fingers up lightly against Bucky’s side, making him shiver.

 

Bucky focused on Sam’s hands, running light touches up and down his torso, pausing to pay special attention to Bucky’s nipples, which hardened almost painfully under the ministrations. He watched as Sam’s fingers glided over his scars like the pale pink lines were just another part of his skin, not a mark of where it had broken open and threatened his life. The bullet graze from Kitzbuhel was treated exactly the same as the chemical scar from Gdansk, unflinchingly and with perfect love, like Bucky’s skin was the skin of a softer man.

 

It was a heady feeling, especially when their gazes locked and the darkness in Sam’s made the blood rush to his crotch, where his loose sweatpants were getting more and more uncomfortable. Bucky’s arms were still hanging immobile by his sides, because he’d been so distracted by all the touching, he hadn’t thought to touch back.

 

Abruptly, Sam’s touches stilled and he pulled back a little. Before Bucky could express his displeasure at this turn, Sam pressed the softest of touches against the metal joint of his other shoulder.

 

It was like all the air suddenly left the room and it left Bucky gasping.

 

When they first got together, Bucky had asked Sam to never touch the metal arm if he could help it and for the most part, Sam had obeyed that agreement. Until now, when he was pressing gentle kisses to the top of it, exactly as he had to the other one.

 

Bucky watched as Sam’s fingers caressed the arm in the mirror, but barely felt the pressure of it. The metal arm was cold still, in contrast to the almost overwhelming heat of the rest of his body. He imagined how cold and foreign it must feel against Sam’s fingers. He almost pulled away, but Sam gripped his wrist. Not tightly, even though Bucky wouldn’t even feel the pain, just pressure.

 

Their eyes met again in the mirror and Sam’s were still dark, his pupils just as blown. As Bucky watched, he raised his hand, and pressed a kiss to each knuckle in turn, the metal fogging up from Sam’s heated breath. Then, Sam twined their fingers together and the contrast was startling, dark against silver and Bucky reflexively gripped back, but gently, afraid he might grip too tight.

 

Sam tipped his head so his lips were grazing Bucky’s ear, the warm air making him shiver.

 

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered and Bucky shook his head weakly, robbed of words. “You are, Bucky, you are. All of you. I love you so much.”

 

Bucky watched their fingers together as Sam brought their hands up to rest against Bucky’s heart, and found that he could breathe easy again. He turned to his left and captured Sam’s lips in a searing kiss.

 

He broke the kiss with a choked off shout, because Sam had slipped his free hand into his sweat pants to grip him with just the right amount of pressure. Bucky helped him pull his pants off, covering Sam’s hand on his length with his own. The feel of both of their hands on him was almost enough to set him off right there, but the image in the mirror was the one that did him in.

 

His torso was flushed, his neck strewn with bitemarks that dotted his body between the scars, their fingers resting against Bucky’s heart and Sam’s body close against him, just as affected, judging by the hard length he could feel against his back and the heated gaze that never left Bucky’s body once.

 

Their gazes met and held, until Bucky’s eyes slipped shut while his orgasm washed over him.

 

He came to a few seconds later, weak as a kitten, grateful for Sam’s hands still holding him up. His metal fingers were still wrapped around Sam’s and his arm felt warm from the heat between them. His first thought was to check Sam’s palm for abrasions from the metal, but thankfully there were none.

 

“You didn’t hurt me.” Sam murmured and Bucky pressed an impulsive kiss against his palm, cradled in his metal one.

 

“Oh, I’d say you’re in pain somewhere else entirely.” Bucky grinned wickedly and pressed back to roll his hips against Sam’s front, reveling in the choked off moan the action produced. “Now get your ass on the bed so my knees don’t get tired.”

 

He could see that Sam was fighting off against saying yet another smartass comment, but in the end the arousal won out and he damn well sprinted to the bed, while Bucky followed at a more leisurely pace.

 

He barely spared the mirror another glance.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](http://jjjat3am.tumblr.com/) and check out #sbweek


End file.
